


Unexpected Destination

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: A sunny vacation on the beach was just what the doctor ordered.  Or would have been if she'd ended up in the right place.  Though perhaps it was the right place after all.





	Unexpected Destination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptaknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptaknight/gifts).



> I have thoroughly enjoyed writing for you this year, **cryptaknight** and I hope you enjoy this story.
> 
> Extra special thankyous to **frumpologist** for the title page images.

  


_November 2007_

Through the tint of her champagne, the vibrant reds, blues, purples and pinks of the multitude of saris, kurtas and sherwanis were slightly muted. Lavender stretched out an arm and rested her cheek against it as she watched the wedding guests swirl about en masse to the energetic music coming from the speakers. The day had been gorgeous and she wouldn't deny that she had shed a few dozen tears of happiness for her best friend, completely and utterly resplendent in her wedding dress. She also wouldn't deny that a couple of those tears were a bit sorrowful as she realised she was the last single person in her circle of friends.

Even outside her immediate circle of friends, most had settled down and started families.

In a rustle of silks, Parvati sat down in the chair beside Lavender. "You'd better not be sulking," she said, digging around in the little purse that was tied beneath her skirt. A small compact appeared and she flipped it open, patting her nose with a bit of powder. "I specifically said you weren't allowed to sulk at my wedding."

Lavender sat up, tucking hair behind her ears. "I wasn't sulking; I was admiring all the outfits. Everyone is gorgeous. Especially you, obviously."

Parvati preened slightly at the compliment, the collection of gold bangles on her wrist jangling as she twisted a curl of dark hair artfully around her fingertip. A smile crossed Lavender's face. She knew she could be jealous and bitter over her friend's luck in finding such a wonderful husband through an arranged marriage. But, other than a few weeks during fourth year when Parvati had been unbearable over her Yule Ball date with Harry Potter (luckily it had gone the way it had or she would have been next to impossible), Lavender had never thought ill of the other girl. She loved Parvati like a sister and wished her nothing but happiness for the rest of her life.

"Where's Ravi?" she asked, looking around. "Shouldn't he be following you around and worshipping your every step all night?"

Parvati laughed and waved a hand toward the crowd of people. "He's dancing with his mum." She held out both hands to Lavender. "Come on. You should join us. Let's have some fun before I have to go."

Unable to refuse, Lavender let herself be led out onto the dance floor and was quickly surrounded by colours and music and laughter. She danced until her feet ached, embraced more than a few lovely looking gentlemen that were heavily intoxicated and perhaps a little bit handsy. When the small hours started to chime, the bridal party made their exit. Parvati in a smart set of dress robes, having changed from her extravagant dress, and her doting husband guiding her through the family members and friends, bidding everyone goodbye. Lavender managed to get a squeezed hand before Parvati was distracted by another sobbing relative.

And then the two were gone.

The music started up again and the guests continued to dance. Lavender, however, took this cue to slip outside and apparate back to her flat. She kicked off her heels and stepped into her fuzzy slippers, padding softly to the kitchen. An indignant meow came from the large siamese on the counter.

"I fed you before I left, Chairman Meow," she said, reaching above him for a mug. The cat butted his head against the underside of her breast. She scooped him up and placed him on the floor where he immediately began to weave around her feet.

Filling her mug with water, Lavender stepped over the cat and shuffled back out into the sitting room. She sank onto the sofa and leaned back, The Chairman climbing up beside her and settling in at her hip, his car engine purr rumbling to life and his paws starting to knead at her thigh. On her coffee table sat the stack of vacation pamphlets she'd gathered at the travel agent in Diagon to help Parvati pick out a honeymoon location. Lavender leaned forward and snatched them up, inspecting each one.

"Maybe I should go on holiday too," she said quietly, knowing that the only other creature in the room was her cat. She scritched behind his ears. "Mum doesn't mind having you at the house either..."

By the time the light started to filter through the curtains, Lavender had decided on a place. She was going away and she was going to have a fantastic time.

_Mid December 2007_

"I included a measuring scoop, Mum." Lavender held out the tote full of cat food. "There's also some tins of wet, but he only gets that at night. He'll tell you that he's utterly starving to death, but that's all a ruse to get second breakfast out of you, but you need to stick to the measurements...."

She sighed, trailing off, and watched her mum snuggle and coo over The Chairman, dangling a feathered toy above his head. The instructions were already be falling on deaf ears. The cat looked briefly at Lavender and she could have sworn he had a smug look on his face as if to say, _I'll have her wrapped around my paw by dinnertime_ before giving the toy a swat. Lavender shook her head. He would have to go on a diet once she got back; she just knew it.

"Is that what you're wearing?" her mother asked, not looking up from the pudgy siamese.

Lavender looked down at herself, giving the hem of her tank top a bit of a tug. "It's perfectly appropriate for the weather," she said.

"You're sure about that?"

"Of course I am," Lavender said brightly. "I checked into the seasonal temperatures. It's cold here, but don't want to show up in woollies, sweating all my makeup off."

She didn't miss the sardonic sort of head shake that her mother did before returning attention to the cat. The expression was all very _whatever you say, dear_. Lavender rolled her eyes and picked up her shoulder bag from the table, choosing not to start something with her somewhat conservative mother. She'd had more than enough arguments over shorts or skirts that were too short, or blouses that were too sheer or low cut, or hair that was too wild, or a scar that was too visible to the rest of the world. She loved her mum, she did, but sometimes it was just a little too much.

Lavender checked her watch. "I have to go. The portkey is scheduled to leave soon."

Her mum got up and The Chairman wandered off in search of a heating vent to curl up on. "Have a good trip, dear," she said, giving Lavender a squeeze.

"I will. Tell dad I said goodbye and I'll see you both for Christmas dinner."

Shifting the shoulder bag, Lavender kissed her mother's cheek and then stepped out into the back garden. She sucked in a breath, the cold hitting her bare skin. It was only for a moment, she told herself, then sand and sun and no more cares. She reached into the side pocket of the bag and pulled out a folded piece of parchment and a little wooden doll. The parchment had a number of instructions written on it and she'd skimmed over most of them, just taking into to memory that she was to process through a local Ministry customs office before proceeding anywhere.

Shouldn't take too long, she thought, it's only America after all.

Shoving the parchment back into her bag, she clasped her hand tightly around the little wooden doll and closed her eyes as the portkey activated and whisked her away.

When she opened her eyes, Lavender noticed the bright blue skies first. Such a difference from the dreary grey clouds that plagued Southern England nearly the whole winter. She couldn't even remember if they'd had one clear day since mid November. These skies were a brilliant blue and she couldn't see a single cloud in any direction. However, that was the only good thing. About three seconds into her arrival and barely a moment after noticing the brilliantly blue skies, it registered on her mind and on her bare skin, that something was terribly and horribly wrong.

It was _freezing_.

And not the sort of the "oh it's chilly, I should get a jumper" sort of way. But the "my skin is literally burning from the icy wind" way. 

With a shriek, Lavender hugged her arms around herself and looked back and forth. Almost immediately her teeth started to chatter and she plunged her hand into her bag for her wand, looking around wildly. She tugged the wand free, scattering a few things on the ground around her feet, keys and a hairbrush and a few clips clattered on the stone. She dropped into a squat and started to snatch them up, eyes widening when she saw the mound of snow shoveled to the side of the walk.

_Snow?!_

Clutching at her wand and her possessions and her bag, Lavender thought for a moment. She hadn't apparated from an unknown location before. How far was she from home? Was she strong enough for long distance travel? She'd never tried anything bigger than popping around the countryside on her own. It was why she'd chosen a portkey and not multiple apparition hops.

She supposed the worst that could happen was splinching, wasn't it? 

But before she could manage to hold out a shaking arm, a spell hit her hand and her wand flew out of it, straight into the gloved hand of an angry-looking wizard standing a few feet from where she had landed. He began to shout at her in words she didn't understand, gesturing at the building and then at the street and then shaking her own wand at her. Lavender stared blankly at him, her ears and nose burning and her teeth chattering so hard she thought they might fall from her head.

Another wizard came up behind her and clasped his hands over her upper arms, answering the other in the same language.

"P-please..." she stammered, trying to push the words past her shaking lips. "I d-don't underst-st-stand."

One of them said something that sounded like the word English, but she wasn't sure. The next thing she knew they had pulled her into the building, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. Lavender stumbled as they kept hold of her arms, marching her down the corridor. One of her light sneakers came loose and slipped against her heel with every step and it wasn't until she caught sight of her wet cheeks and running nose reflected back in the window of one of the office doors that she realised she was crying. She hadn't even felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.

One of the two men opened an office door and the other pushed her inside. The larger of the two spoke rapidly to the person inside, the word "English" a bit clearer. However, Lavender wasn't even paying attention to any of that. Her gaze, and attention, was drawn over to a large fire crackling in a fireplace. Wrenching her arms out of the wizard's grip, she stumbled over to the flames, falling to her knees and leaning as close as she could to the heat as she could.

Fire. Warm fire. Fireplace! Her eyes widened and she looked around desperately searching for a jar or a bowl or a cauldron of powder.

"If you're looking for Floo Powder, you won't find it," a voice spoke behind her. "They don't have the same system."

Lavender froze, her hand outstretched toward the flames. "Yes they do," she said, shaking her head. "It was in the brochure. MACUSA regulates the northern and southern networks to work in tandem with each other."

"Which would make sense if you were in the United States and not Russia, Brown."

" _Russia!_ " She yelped and whirled around, her hip hitting the hearth of the fireplace. She looked up at the person speaking and her mouth fell open.

Of all the people that she could have ever expected to be face to face with, Draco Malfoy was not one of those people. She hadn't seen him in years. The last she'd heard of him was that he'd left the country, obviously, but the rumours had always placed him somewhere more south: Australia or South Africa or Chile. But here he was, standing in front of her, telling her she was in Russia of all places.

Burying her fingers in her hair, she took a few deep breaths. She was going to kill that travel agent when she got home.

"I need my wand. Russia isn't that far... a couple of apparition hops and I'll be home."

"It's not that simple," Draco responded. "You need your wand to apparate. You need a Russian licence with your paperwork to carry your wand. Those licences should have been in place before you got here."

"But I'm not supposed to be in Russia, Malfoy!" Lavender couldn't help herself and burst into tears. "I'm supposed to be in St Petersburg!"

"You are," Draco said, sounding confused.

"No!" She gestured to herself, clearly indicating the thin t-shirt, shorts and sandals. "Does this outfit look like I wanted to be in Russia? I was supposed to be in St Petersburg, Florida. Florida! Where there is sand and sunshine..."

"This is St Petersburg. Russia." 

At least he had the good sense to look uncomfortable, she thought, wiping at her face. She thought back to the wizard handling the travel arrangements back in London. She'd said Florida to him. Many times. Hadn't she? Now she couldn't remember. He'd just been happy to take her money and set everything up. Trust me, he'd said. Trust me and you'll have a magical Christmas season.

"Obviously this was a mistake," she said, sniffing. "If you just get me a portkey, I'll go back home to England and we can forget this mess ever happened. We don't even have to mention that we saw each other."

He gave her a look.

"Let me guess," she groaned. "It's not that simple."

He didn't answer her. Instead he turned and addressed the two guards who had brought her in. The three of them conversed in Russian for a moment before the guards left the room, closing the door behind them. Draco went to the cupboard behind his desk and pulled out a heavy cardigan, walking over to where she sat and holding it out. Lavender didn't even hesitate, she snatched up the proffered item and wrapped it around her shoulders, wishing it was longer as she pulled her legs up closer to her chest.

"I'll get the paperwork started for a portkey, but it'll take time. It's December, so things are moving a little slower this month."

"How slow?" she asked, shifting closer to the fire.

"It's hard to say," he answered, looking up from the desk and from the expression on his face, she guessed that it was going to be very slow.

"You really shouldn't have to be inconvenienced like this," she said once more as he pushed open the door to his flat.

She knew it was futile. She'd already offered to find her own place to stay in the city until this whole mess was sorted. But that was the thing with the Russian Ministry of Magic. Lavender had once thought that the British Ministry was tangled up in too much red tape. But she had just now learned that the Russians had taken it to the extreme. Draco had spent the morning and a better part of the afternoon, filling out requisitions for different forms and permits and then waiting for those forms and permits to arrive so he could fill those out with her.

Lavender had tried to make small talk. She was dead curious about what he'd been up to and what had changed in his life to make him want to take up employment in Russia of all places. But he'd been very tight lipped and she'd not managed to get more than a cursory "it suited me" response from him, which was frustrating to say the very least. Which he did. He said the absolute very least.

The flat situation had drawn more words out of him than anything else.

"You're an unregistered magical visitor, Ms Brown," Draco said, shuffling papers. "Your presence needs to be supervised until all the right paperwork is filed."

"Oh stop being so formal, Draco, and call me Lavender," she said. "So I'm, what, supposed to just stay here in the office until that happens?" She looked around, rubbing her shins.

He shook his head. "I've told them you can spend your time at my flat. Zia's gone to get you some proper clothes and shoes. She said her sister was your size. She'll be back in about an hour."

Lavender crossed her arms. Then she uncrossed them, shoved up the long sleeves of the cardigan and crossed them again. "What do you mean your flat?"

"I offered," he said. 

Lavender still couldn't figure out why he was so stiff and formal and all business. Draco had always been one of those posh sort of boys, spoiled by their families. But also very loud and boasting. This stiff and dispassionate persona didn't fit at all with the memories that she had of him. She supposed, perhaps, that he had suffered greatly during the years clouded by Voldemort, but so had all of them and she hadn't gone through that much of a change. Other than having to recover from the wounds that Greyback had inflicted on her.

She'd tried to argue against staying at his flat. In the end she'd lost the battle. There weren't enough people to spare for twenty-four hour monitoring and, with the language barrier, he'd convinced her that anyone other than him could run the potential of some kind of international incident. Though perhaps she hadn't really made that good of a case for herself by pointing out that she could have just as easily contribute to an international incident in the confines of his flat as she could a hotel.

Some people just didn't understand good humour these days.

"The spare room is there," Draco said, hanging up his robe and gesturing down the hallway from the sitting room. 

Lavender nodded and looked around, unable to stop herself from shivering. It wasn't that she was all that cold, not really. True to her word, Zia had brought a suitcase of clothing from her sister. At first Lavender had protested, worried that she was putting the other woman out, but Zia had assured her that her heavily pregnant sister had little use for clothing that didn't fit. Grateful for the help, she had changed into the borrowed clothing. The shivers now, however, came from seeing the sparse decor of his flat. It looked like no one lived here.

"Are you moving..." she trailed off as she noticed that he'd disappeared.

She supposed that was how it was going to be and she supposed it made sense. They weren't at all friendly during school, what reason would he have to be friendly with her now? With a sigh, Lavender shifted her grip on the suitcase Zia had given her and went to find the guest room.

A look of surprise crossed her face when she pushed open the door. She was expecting a room that reflected the rest of the flat, bare and cold. This room was the complete opposite. A plush rug covered half the floor and the bed was filled with plump, frilly pillows and thick blankets. A wardrobe sat pushed up against the wall and there was a pair of very fuzzy slippers tucked beneath the space between the bottom drawer and the floor. Everything was varying shades of pink. Lavender sat down the suitcase and perched on the edge of the bed. She could only guess that it had to be a guest room for Pansy Parkinson.

"At least he gets visits from his friends..." she said quietly, looking toward the door before she started unpacking the suitcase of borrowed clothes.

The light from the window had completely faded by the time there was a soft knock on the door. Lavender looked up from the magazine she'd pulled from her own belongings and frowned slightly. She was right in the middle of learning if she was Good-Girl Hot or Bad-Girl Hot, but the second knock, more insistent than the first, didn't seem to care in the slightest. With a sigh, she rolled off the bed and slipped her feet into the fuzzy slippers and padded over to the door. The slippers made a satisfyingly soft thwap against her heels as she walked.

"Supper is on the table," Draco said, stepping back as she opened the door. He looked down at her feet and then back up to her face, but said nothing.

Not that she felt he needed to say anything. Pansy certainly wasn't around to have use of the slippers so it really shouldn't matter at all.

Without speaking he turned and walked back toward the main room of the flat and without needing to be asked, Lavender followed him. The table up against one wall was set for two, covered plates at each spot. Draco took one chair and unfolded a newspaper with one hand, removing the plate cover with another. Some sort of pasta dish sat in front of him. Lavender took a seat, immediately regretting that she hadn't brought her magazine with her and lifted the cover to her own plate. A similar looking pasta filled the plate in front of her and she leaned down to sniff at it.

"It's not poisoned," he said.

Lavender looked up and saw that the paper still had his attention. She stamped down the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "I didn't think it was," she replied. "I only wanted to smell it."

"In case it was poisoned," he said, flipping a page.

"That's not true!" She scowled at him, grabbed her fork and stabbed a curly noodle.

Silence descended over the table, save for the clink of fork against china. Lavender was impressed by the food; his elf was very talented. The company, however, left a lot to be desired. She'd never felt so uncomfortable around someone as she did Draco Malfoy and when he finished ahead of her, clearing his plate to the kitchen before departing for his own room, she was almost relieved.

"Thank you for the meal," she said quietly to wherever the house elf was hiding and set her plate into the sink on top of his. "It was delicious."

There was no response—she didn't think there would be—and she returned to the guest room, the uncomfortable silence of the flat following close behind her. She supposed this was how it would be, silent meals with little interaction, until he got her wand back and a portkey home. Lavender reached for her purse, digging around until she found her wallet. Just the few hundred dollars of spending money she'd intended for America. Certainly not enough for a flight home if she could somehow get herself to the airport.

With a small growl of frustration, she dropped the purse on the floor and flopped back on the bed, pulling a pillow over her face. This was not the vacation she had hoped for.

"Please..." Lavender sat on her knees in front of the sofa, palms pressed together. "Look at me; I am literally begging you."

Draco lowered the book to his lap, a thumb between the pages. He opened his mouth and she could almost hear the 'you can't wander around on your own' starting to form. It had been almost a week now and she couldn't stand being cooped up in his flat for another day. If she was going to be forced to be on holiday in Russia she wanted to see a little bit of it at least. But every time she'd asked, the answer had been the same. She didn't have a Russian permit. She didn't even have the proper muggle documentation. If something happened, how would she explain herself?

"Come with me!" The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm going mad cooped up in here. The ministry wants me supervised... couldn't you supervise me?" Pinching her eyes closed, Lavender held her breath.

"Alright," Draco said.

"But why not? This isn't fair..." she started to argue just as he spoke. Her eyes flew open and she watched him set aside the book and get up from the sofa. "Wait, did you just say yes?"

"I don't want you going back and telling all your friends how you were held hostage here," he said, putting the book aside.

Lavender spluttered a bit, unable to think of an answer. It hadn't even crossed her mind that she would tell anyone about having to stay at Draco Malfoy's flat while in Russia when she was supposed to be in Florida. It was embarrassing enough to have messed up on the destination. She watched him get up and go to where his coat was hooked behind the door, pulling out a pair of tall boots as well. She still hadn't gotten used to this subdued and quiet Draco. It was like all the life had been drained right out of him and as much as she hadn't liked him at all during their school years, she felt almost concerned that he was like this now.

Puffing out her cheeks, she scrambled to her feet and bounced down the hallway to her room. She grabbed the winter jacket that Zia had provided and her sandals. She knew the footwear was inappropriate, but she took them out into the main room, dangling them in front of her by the straps.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

He shook his head and took out his wand, transfiguring the shoes into a pair of boots. Lavender looked them over, impressed. She'd been expecting something plain, but he'd kept them stylish. She didn't know too many men who would make an effort to make a pair of boots look pretty, but he'd managed. They were tall, up to the top of her calves, and he'd even managed to conjure a furry lining. Unable to stop herself, she broke out into a wide grin and plopped herself down on the sofa to put them on. Getting out of the flat was just what she needed.

Other than getting back home to England, of course.

A short side-along apparition later and Lavender found herself standing with Draco in the middle of a long driveway, looking down to a grand building. The cold bit at her cheeks and she sucked a deep breath of the frosty air, very grateful to finally be outside. Even if it wasn't the beach and even if she wasn't wearing a skimpy bathing suit or flirting with bare-chested men while sipping a fruity drink. She rubbed her gloved hands together and pulled her hair down over her ears.

"You should have worn a hat," Draco said, adjusting one of his gloves with a tug at the wrist.

"I'll be fine," Lavender replied, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. "So where are we?"

"Pavlovsk Palace. There's a museum and a park," Draco replied as they started down the long driveway, the snow crunching under their boots.

She walked silently for a moment, hoping that he would give her more information about the place, but he seemed content to just walk. And she didn't exactly blame him. Stretching her legs, even in the snow, was just what the doctor ordered. From what she could glean from his sparse comments, the brisk cold and excessive snow in recent days had been a surprise. Leading up to her arrival in Russia, the weather had been very wet and gloomy. Certainly not as white and sparkling as it was now. It was delightfully peaceful.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She clasped her hands together.

In the distance, to the side of the Museum entrance was a little ticket booth hut and adjacent to that was a large sleigh, three enormous horses hitched to the front of it. Clouds of steamy breath expelled from their nostrils and they pawed at the snow with their large hooves. Lavender gave a little squeak of excitement and started off toward the large animals, ignoring the protesting noise that Draco made behind her.

"Oh aren't you _pretty_ ," she said to the first horse, reaching up to pat at his nose. He gave a snort and Lavender smiled. "My mistake," she laughed. "Aren't you _handsome_ , good sir."

"Troika ride around the park is best way to see," A bearded man spoke from the ticket booth in a thick Russian accent.

"That sounds wonderful," Lavender said. "Let me see if my... um... " She paused, not knowing if 'friend' was the right word to use. Turning her head, she was startled to see that Draco still stood on the path where they had been walking and the expression on his face could only be described as nervous. She walked back over to where he stood.

"Sorry. I suppose I'm not supposed to bolt off like that, am I?"

He didn't answer.

Lavender shuffled her feet. "Do you mind, though? Could we go for a ride on the sleigh?"

"I'm not a fan."

She looked back at the sled and then returned her attention to Draco. "Of sleighs?"

Draco shook his head. "The animals pulling them, actually." He gestured toward the building. "The museum is just over there."

"We can do that after." Lavender leaned forward and seized his hand, tugging him toward the sled. "You're not riding the horses. It'll be fine."

"Brown... Brown wait... " Draco spluttered as he was pulled along.

"I'm not listening, _Draco_ ," she said, emphasising his name. "Not until you start calling me Lavender. We're not rival students and we're certainly not children." She got behind him and gave his shoulders a little nudge. "Up you go."

Soon they were being carried along over the snow, the sleigh bouncing and swaying with the movement of the horses. Halfway through the ride, Lavender looked over at Draco, whose eyes were pinched shut, both hands balled into fists against the blanket that covered both their laps. A wave of unease washed over Lavender. She hadn't thought it would be all that terrible. Didn't people get over their discomfort by just doing the thing they weren't comfortable doing?

She leaned over. "You're missing all the lovely scenery," she said.

"It's fine. I'll enjoy it later."

Lavender pushed herself up and leaned against the front of the sled, closer to the driver, asking him to take them back. The older man nodded and turned the sleigh back toward the main building. She pulled her legs out of the way as Draco scrambled to get out and followed him shortly after.

The driver produced a bottle and two small glasses, filling them. Draco almost snatched the glass from his hand, drinking down the vodka in one gulp before handing it back and walking away from where the sleigh had come to a stop. Lavender winced as she drank her own shot, thanking the driver and hurrying to follow Draco.

"Was it really that bad?" she asked, falling into step with him.

"I don't like animals that are larger than me," he said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"But why... those horses are beautiful. Why would you..." she trailed off as a memory surfaced. A memory of a lesson about creatures. A memory of a hippogriff. "Hagrid's class?"

"That. The ruddy great snake that lived in our house for a year following Voldemort around didn't help either. Theodore has a stable full of horses and I won't go near it. Not even when we were children. He tried to help me get over my fear, but it never worked." 

He looked down at his feet and she wasn't sure if the redness in his cheeks was from the cold or that he was embarrassed for showing a vulnerability to her. She guessed it was the latter and she felt a knot of discomfort in her stomach. She reached out and touched his elbow, which he pulled away, glancing over at her.

"I won't tell anyone," she assured him.

His expression was skeptical.

"I won't," she repeated.

And she did mean it. Everyone always assumed that she had a healthy love of gossip. She was the first to admit that, as a teenager with very romantic thoughts, it was entertaining to read. Especially when it didn't involve her. But after the war she'd grown tired of the blind items and the whispered theories. Was Potter getting married? Was the Ginny Weasley up the duff? Were Hermione and Ron secretly adopting their children? The worst one was when Ron had stopped for a conversation with her at Malkins while buying socks for his dad. Suddenly he was having an affair with an old school flame and she'd had to avoid shopping in Diagon for nearly a month.

"Alright. Forget the sleigh," she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Let's go into the museum and look around. After we can go find something delicious to eat and vodka to drink."

"Checkmate," Lavender announced, setting down her queen, effectively blocking all movements of Draco's king. She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

He stared incredulously at the board, having dominated the round for the first half and it was clear that he didn't quite understand how she'd managed to win. Again. He started picking up the captured pieces and placing them back onto the board. Lavender looked at the clock that hung on the wall. They'd been playing for a good three hours now and she was surprised at how swept up in the game they'd both become. 

"Best three out of five?" he asked.

"Are you sure?" she chuckled. "I've already beaten you twice and we haven't even had lunch yet."

"Yes, but I'm still not quite sure _how_ you're beating me," Draco contemplated the pieces in front of them. 

"Everyone forgets that I dated Ron Weasley in school. We didn't spend _all_ our time snogging, you know. He actually taught me everything I know about chess."

Draco's cheeks flushed a little at the mention of Ron and she watched his lips turn down in the slightest of frowns. Lavender rolled her eyes and reached out to set down the mug of chocolate. She'd intended to get him to talk about why he disliked Harry and the others so much, but her thoughts were interrupted by the mug missing the edge of the coffee table and falling forward onto her feet. Lavender yelped in surprise. Not because it was a scalding drink—it had cooled significantly already—but because of the dark brown stain that was now colouring the fluffy pink slippers.

"Oh no!" Lavender slipped her feet out of them and snatched them up, hurrying to the kitchen sink. She started to run water over the material.

"It's fine," Draco said, following her into the kitchen.

"It's not fine," Lavender said. "These weren't my slippers. And chocolate... you can't get that out with a scouring spell." She wiped at the wet footwear with a tea towel. "Don't worry. When I get back to England, I'll send you a replacement for Pansy."

He gave her a curious look. "Pansy?"

"Well yes," Lavender said, pushing back her hair as she daubed at the slippers. "She'll need to have something clean to wear when she visits. Your flat isn't exactly the warmest."

"No she won't," Draco said, leaning on the kitchen counter beside the sink.

"Yes she will," she insisted. "These weren't part of the suitcase of clothing that Zia gave me. I have to replace them."

"They're not Pansy's," he said finally. "Pansy's never been to this flat. They're my mother's. She's the only one who's visited."

Her mouth fell open and a number of questions started to swirl around in her head. If Pansy didn't visit and it was just his mum, then that meant that Theodore Nott didn't visit either even though Draco had mentioned him a few times. He hadn't mentioned wanting to go out with any Russian friends over the last two weeks. Was he alone here? Completely alone? Was _that_ why he was so withdrawn and quiet?

She didn't end up asking any of her questions, however because the next thing she knew he'd left the kitchen and gone back into the other room to clean up the chess board, leaving her alone with her thoughts as he put it away in his room. 

Part of her wanted to follow. Part of her wanted to push and see if she could get him to open up and that part was also baffled as to why she wanted to do all of that. She supposed it was some sort of pity she felt for him. No friends. All alone in a foreign country. He didn't look happy with his cold and sparse life at all.

With a sigh, Lavender turned and opened the fridge. She grabbed an apple from the crisper and took it and the slippers to her room. This sudden concern for Draco Malfoy was a little unsettling and she wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Brown," Draco called out, thumping lightly on the bedroom door.

" _Lavender_ ," was her garbled reply as she pushed back the blankets.

A pause. Another knock. 

"Lavender, the Ministry has called me in for some work. I don't know how long it will take. Are you dressed?"

She looked down at the nightgown she was wearing, her legs still tangled in the bedsheets. "No, but if you give me fifteen minutes."

Another pause. She could almost hear the debate going on in his head. "There isn't time. Can I trust you on your own?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to cause an international incident from your flat, Draco."

He said something else in response, but she'd already pulled the blanket up over her head and rolled over. Soon she was asleep again and when she woke the second time the stillness of the flat made it very obvious that she was alone. She got out of bed and quickly dressed, cracking open the door and peering out into the empty flat. It was the first time in the last two weeks that she'd been left on her own and without him sitting at the sofa doing the work that he'd brought home, she realised just how cold and gloomy the flat really did seem. 

In the kitchen there was a pot on the stove. Lavender lifted the lid and found it full of porridge, charmed to stay hot but not overcook. That house elf of his, scarcely seen as it was, seemed to think of everything. Her stomach gave a growl and she quickly filled a bowl, sitting at the small kitchen table to eat.

On the table was where she found the note.

_~~Brown~~ Lavender,_

_I don't know how long this will take. While I'm in the office, I'll follow up on your portkey back to England and see if there is any progress or estimate as to when it will be ready for you._

_~D_

Lavender set down the note, frowning. "I guess he wants me out of his hair."

Though she supposed it was understandable considering the chaos that her inaccurate travel plans had caused. Looking around the flat again and then at the clock, she puffed out her cheeks wondering what to do next. Out the large main window the snow had started to fall again, fat fluffy flakes drifting down and settling against the windowpane. An idea started to form in her head and a smile spread across her face. 

The flat needed something. Something cheerful.

"I know I promised... but a little shopping isn't close to an international incident."

An hour later she was sitting in the back of a taxi, a gruff looking woman maneuvering through the snowy streets. Lavender's first stop was a bank where she exchanged all of her Florida spending money into the right currency. Petra, originally Czech and happy to talk about her grandchildren as she drove Lavender around the city, took her to various shops, idling at the curb every time Lavender dashed out into the snow to make a purchase. It was well after noon when she finally got back to the flat and the sturdy taxi driver helped her carry all her bags back into the building.

Draco had still not returned, thankfully, and Lavender wished Petra a lovely holiday. The older woman gave her a strange look, pocketing the taxi fare. She tried to decline a box of sugar-dusted tea cakes that Lavender had found, but only took it on Lavender's insistence that it was for her grandchildren to share. 

Once alone, Lavender hung up her coat, the snow melting and dripping onto the floor. She set her boots next to the heat vent and turned to face the numerous bags that now sat on the sofa and coffee table.

"This would be easier with my wand," she said to no one in particular, her hands on her hips as she looked around the room in order to decide where she would start. "But the Muggle way it is then."

With that she dumped out the first bag.

Lights. She'd start with the fairy lights first.

At some point she'd nodded off. She hadn't meant to, but as the hours passed and he'd still not come back, she couldn't manage to keep her eyes open. The next thing she knew, a blanket was being settled over her body and the movement of the fabric startled her back awake. She sat up suddenly, almost flailing in her surprise and nearly crashed her head against Draco's as he leaned over the sofa. Lavender clutched at her chest, heart pounding at the sudden upright bolt.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, still clutching the blanket and half leaning over her.

"You didn't," she said automatically and then winced, knowing how completely stupid that sounded. She rubbed at her eyes. "I mean..."

"Since it's very obvious _what_ you did to my flat," he said, gesturing to the decorations that adorned the room. "Might I ask as to _how_ you did all this?"

Lavender couldn't help but smile, proud of what she'd accomplished. Each window had a strand of colourful twinkling lights snaking up over the curtain rod and down the other side, framing the outside in sparkles of red, green, yellow, purple and blue. Fat red bows tied back the curtains and she'd filled bowls around the flat with glossy ornaments and plastic sprigs of holly adorned the mantle of the fireplace that he didn't actually use.

"Don't be mad. I was very polite and careful and didn't cause any scenes anywhere." She paused, shifting uncomfortably under his steady gaze. "It's just that your flat seemed so cold and lonely and you don't have any Christmas decorations up and since I'm leaving soon, I thought it would be nice to put a few things up to surprise you. I did it all without magic so I didn't break any crazy, Russian magical laws because the last thing I want to do is get you in trouble. I mean, you're really not that bad... we've all grown up a lot since school... and I really do appreciate you putting up with me all this time and if you keep staring at me like that I'm just going to keep babbling..."

She expected him to ask her to take it all down. She expected him to wave his wand and make it all disappear. What she didn't expect was for him to close the space between them, curl his hand to the back of her neck and press his mouth against hers. 

Lavender froze, eyes wide and nearly everything that had happened over the last two weeks played through her head in high speed. Her arrival in his office. The cardigan he'd offered. The meals they'd shared. The trip to Pavlovsk. They'd fallen into a comfortable routine, sharing his flat, and she'd actually enjoyed his company.

When he drew back, Lavender looked down to see that her hand had drifted up to clutch at the front of his shirt. Her fingers tightened in the fabric.

"Just... Just a minute..." she said, holding him in place.

"I'm sor—" He stopped speaking when she put her fingers against his mouth.

"No. No please don't apologise," she said, closing her eyes briefly as she tried to think of what she wanted to say. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she finally looked at him. "Sit down."

He did.

Lavender scooted back a little and sat cross-legged, facing him. "Talk to me."

"You want to talk?"

"I want to know more about you," she said. "More than what I think I know about you. Tell me something I don't know. Tell me about growing up. Tell me about why you came to Russia."

Draco rubbed the back of his neck. She waited patiently, tucking the blanket around her bare feet and after a moment he began.

She never expected this. If someone had asked her at the beginning of December that she would be in Russia, sitting on Draco Malfoy's sofa, while he talked about his childhood, she would have laughed in their face. But there she sat. And there she listened. And his stories were fascinating. She'd never imagined the world he'd grown up in full of rules and etiquette and endless social gatherings. She never imagined that he'd actually hated all of it. Or how discouraged he'd been at having his offer of friendship being turned down by Potter or how disgusted he'd felt by how discouraged he was because it was _Potter_ after all.

Granted the offer could have perhaps been made a little better, he admitted. 

"I was a little shit at eleven years old," he said, getting up from the sofa and leaving her alone for a bit before returning with two mugs filled with hot chocolate.

"I will forgive your shittiness at eleven, if you ignore how awful I was in sixth year hanging all over Ron Weasley." She cringed knowing she might never live 'Won-won' down.

Draco looked away over her shoulder, his gaze seeming to focus on the lights around the window. "I don't really think back over sixth year if I can help it."

There was a brief moment where the conversation could have turned awkward, but she chose not to prod him about it or let him dwell on the memories. Instead she leaned forward and swatted at his knee and smiled. 

"That's good for me then. Because I was completely ridiculous and I would be quite appalled if that's all you thought about when you looked at me. Because... really... yikes."

She waited a beat before she saw a half smile form on his face.

Glancing up at the clock, Lavender scrunched up her nose. It was well after midnight. She leaned over and set the empty hot chocolate mug on the coffee table before pushing aside the blanket. They hadn't spoken of the earlier kiss, but she supposed that was alright. Why stir things up when the dust seemed to be settled all around them, right?

She got up, stretching a little. "I suppose it's time to sleep."

"Is it?" he asked, looking up at her.

She nodded. "Yes. Yes I think so." A smile. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Alright," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "Goodnight then."

In her room, Lavender perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, twisting her fingertips in the blanket covering half of it. She got up, walked the length of the room and then restlessly sat down again. Puffing out her cheeks, she got up once again, taking her nightgown out of the wardrobe and holding it in front of her before she tossed it on the bed and sat down. Again. Then she scrubbed her fingers through her hair and gave the strands a bit of a tug.

"Stop it," she said, chiding herself. "If you wanted to know what that had meant, you should have asked from the start."

But he could have also _said_ something, a tiny voice in the back of her head reminded her. Why was it up to her to ask? If he wanted to kiss her again, he should have said so and not tried to apologise as if he'd done something terrible because it hadn't been that terrible. Granted she didn't have a second kiss to compare it do, but it had been pleasant enough. And _why_ couldn't she stop thinking about it? With a grumble, Lavender got to her feet once more and walked purposefully toward the door, pulling it open. She jumped back with a yelp, clutching her hand to her throat and a few choice expletives tumbling from her mouth. On the other side of the doorway stood Draco, looking at her curiously, his hand poised as if he was about to knock.

"You!" She pointed at him.

"Me?" Draco asked.

"You kissed me."

"I did."

"And you're standing there," she said, her hand dropping.

"I am."

"Did you want to kiss me again?" she asked. Was that hope colouring her question?

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He seemed to be enjoying the short answers. "I do."

"Why?"

He paused, looked down at his hands and then tilted his head. Lavender could see him trying to work though some kind of long answer that would explain everything. Part of her said it was good to hear his thoughts. Part of her wondered if he was actually trying to talk himself out of it. She held up a hand.

"Forget I asked," she said. "I just remembered that I actually don't care why."

Before he could respond, she stepped forward, flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips against his. There was a moment where he froze and there was a moment where Lavender felt the doubt rise up. Hadn't he just said that he wanted to kiss her? But then his hands slid up over her back and she felt herself pulled even closer as his head turned and his mouth slanted across hers and all of her niggling doubt seemed to vanish.

Lavender learned something in that moment. As his tongue teased across her lips, coaxing them to part and deepening the kiss, she realised that Draco Malfoy was good at this. Like _really_ good at this. 

A soft noise caught in her throat and she gripped the back of his shirt, her knees going weak. _Weak!_ She hadn't been kissed until she was weak in the knees for longer than she could remember. But somehow he managed to do it. And she sagged a little, holding onto him to keep from sinking to the ground. Which was quite difficult because soon his mouth had moved from hers and travelled down her neck to the soft spot just below her ear.

Oh dear lord, she thought, pinching her eyes shut as a thrill swam around in her belly at the sensation.

One of his hands slid under the back of her shirt to run along her bare skin and Lavender felt herself take a step backwards. Her eyes flew open and her hands came to his chest, pushing slightly. Draco snatched his hand away and let go of her, but Lavender shook her head, but also gripped his shirt to keep him from moving away. He gave her a confused look.

"I'm getting mixed signals here," he said finally. "What do you want me to do?"

She looked up at him, the cheeky answer of 'me' coming to the front of her mind, but she glanced over her shoulder at the bed she'd been sleeping on for the last couple of weeks before looking at him again. 

"The honest answer..." He moved to embrace her again, but she stopped him. "...can't be something that you think is going to happen in the same bed your mother uses when she visits."

Draco looked at her, then over at the bed and then back at her. His hands pressed to his face and she could see his ears going red. Lavender couldn't help but chuckle at what he might be imagining. She stepped closer and her fingertips ran lightly over the waistband of his trousers, nudging against his abdomen. He lowered his hands slightly and peered at her.

She gave him a wry smile. "That doesn't mean I don't want anything to happen at all, you know," she said lightly. "I'm fairly certain that this isn't the only bed in the flat..."

"Ah."

"Yes. Ah." Lavender repeated, reaching up and tugging at his collar to pull him down, her lips meeting his.

There was something different about this kiss. Maybe because she'd consented to something more, but this kiss was more of everything. More passionate, more possessive, it had more promise. And she couldn't get enough. Unable, though more unwilling, to let go of him, Lavender kissed Draco as they stumbled from her room and down the hallway toward his. She tugged at his shirt and soon it was left behind in a heap on the floor. Along with various pieces of her own. 

She wore only knickers and a bra by the time she fell back on his bed, looking up at him.

There was a pause in their movements as they both looked each other over. Lavender reached up and traced her fingers along the thin white scars that covered his chest. She didn't ask him about them and when she felt his hand brush back her hair to expose the marks that marred her shoulder, she was infinitely grateful that he returned the favour. They didn't need to have a conversation about their scars. Neither Greyback, nor Harry Potter, had any place in this moment between them.

Draco kissed her again, hands roaming over her and Lavender arched her back as she lifted into each of his touches.

She wondered if anyone knew how gentle he could be with another person. There were a few moments of hesitation, but a guided hand here and an encouraging moan there and that hesitation went away. He held her, he touched her, he made her shiver with each movement and when he finally took her, his hips nestled against hers, Lavender was almost overwhelmed by the sensation of it all. Her breath hitched.

This was different.

She'd had sex before and she'd felt good, but when it was all over she'd just gone on her way and never thought much else about it.

But this. This was not that. He moved inside her, he kissed her, he knew every place on her body that needed to be touched and he touched each one. His fingers drew out feelings and moans that she hadn't known were possible. Her heart beat—no _pounded_. Her skin felt as if was humming. This wasn't sex. This was so much more.

And when she came, she called out his name, holding onto him through wave after wave of delicious sensation and pressing her lips to his as he rode out his own orgasm.

Later, wrapped in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, Lavender watched as the sky turned from purple to pink. She traced each of his knuckles with her thumb and smiled when he peppered her shoulder with tiny kisses. There was a small part of her that had hoped morning would never happen because deep down inside of her she had been worried that morning would bring regrets.

But the sky had brightened. He'd not asked her to leave.

The only thing that kept them from another round was the rather embarrassing gurgle of her empty stomach. She pressed a hand to her face and felt his chest start to shake against her back.

"I'd ask if you were hungry, but I think you just told me," he said, his hand sliding to the underside of her breast and cupping it. "Should I go make us something?"

Lavender turned around and buried her face against his neck. "Do you have to? Can't your elf make something?"

"What elf?" Draco asked.

Lavender lifted her head and blinked. "The one making all the meals..." At his curious look she pinched her eyes shut. "The one you obviously don't have because you've been doing all the cooking." She swatted at him, her hand lightly slapping his chest. "Draco, I have been _thanking_ your elf for the meals for the last two weeks!"

He laughed. "I thought it was funny..."

"You could have told me!"

"But then you would have stopped." He kissed her again and pushed back the blankets. "It was cute."

"You're awful and I don't think I like you anymore," she said, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced at him and tried to glare, but found it extremely difficult.

He chuckled and tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms, tossing the shirt onto the bed for her before he left. The next thing she heard was various sounds from the kitchen and even though she tried to stay irritated, she kicked off the blankets and grabbed the nightshirt, tugging it over her head. Now that she knew, she wasn't going to miss him in the kitchen this time. How she'd managed to miss it every other time was beyond her.

"I like the decorations, by the by," he said, filling a kettle as she sat on a chair at the table.

"You should see what I put up at home."

He looked over at her. "I should. Does tomorrow work for you?"

She blinked in surprise and looked at him. Draco nodded his chin toward an envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. Beside it was a single glove, her wand sitting on top. Her mouth fell open and she jumped up from the table and hurried over, tearing open the envelope to find a temporary magical permit that lasted through to the middle of January and instructions on how her portkey would activate. Lavender beamed.

"I can go home?"

He nodded. "You can also come back." He reached over and pushed back her messy hair. "Christmas is in January here..."

Lavender smiled and folded the paper, setting it back down on the counter. She turned and slid her arms around his waist, resting her hands at the small of his back. "However did you know that I've always wanted to celebrate the holidays in St Petersburg?"

Draco chuckled. "Which St Petersburg?"

"This one, obviously."

"You've always?"

"Well... always for at least two weeks. Does that count?"

He kissed her. "It does."


End file.
